


stabbed by the flash of a neon light

by viveriveniversumvivusvici55



Series: The Sound of Silence [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Big MT Is A Weird Place, But work with me here, Canon-Typical Violence, Ex-Legion Courier, Gen, I have no idea if any of the science I am suggesting is possible, Old World Blues DLC, Science, Technobabble, Trans Male Character, it's pronounced Percy, mute courier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:10:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viveriveniversumvivusvici55/pseuds/viveriveniversumvivusvici55
Summary: "Go check out the Satellite, Perse! At least before the Brotherhood gets to it!"Perse is never listening to Arcade again. Listening to Arcade gets him teleported across the Mojave and cut apart by brains in jars, questioning his sanity and the world around him.Even if he makes a new friend and might get his voice back. He's still never listening to Arcade.
Relationships: Male Courier & Dr. O | Dr. 0
Series: The Sound of Silence [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615609
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	1. A Brief Character Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> My first Fallout New Vegas fic, because Old World Blues is amazing.
> 
> First note: His name is pronounced Percy.  
Second note: I am neither mute nor trans, even though Perse is. This may show up in my writing, and if it offends, I apologize and please let me know what I can do to change it.  
Third note: It is unclear at this point if this will be romantic or not. I will keep you posted.

_You are a courier, hired by the Mojave Express, to deliver a package to the New Vegas Strip. What seemed like a simple delivery job has taken a turn…for the worse. According to a recorded message on your Pipboy (in addition to the delivery notice), your name is Perse. You were once a slave in Caesar's Legion, owned by the one and only Malpais Legate. When he fell from grace, you ran to avoid death, stole a Pipboy and clothes from a dead vault dweller, and recorded a message to yourself saying that you're free but being hunted by the Legion. Considering your scarred slit throat is not as old as the collar scars around your neck, but older than the bullet in your head, you suspect they caught you. You picked up a rifle and made the executive decision to not only try to deliver your package but find the man who shot you in the first place._

_In the process of trying to deliver your package to the Vegas Strip (after many, many errands for people around said Strip), you heard a mysterious broadcast over your Pipboy - Old World Jazz Music. You go to investigate it, accompanied by Arcade Gannon, a scientist from the Followers who you got to join you by flirting with him. He suggests looking at the satellite to explore the technology, to evaluate if the two of you should drag it back to New Vegas, away from the Brotherhood._

_When you touch it, you are swept up in blue light and feel yourself lifting off the ground._

_You have no idea what is happening, but you know one thing for certain._

_You are going to KILL Arcade for this._


	2. Welcome to the Think Tank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we now get to the actual story
> 
> A note: Italics will be used to describe Perse’s thoughts and signs. I will also add that I am no expert on sign language, and while I suspect some form of sign language survived into the apocalypse, a lot of it would be pantomime. See Christine Royce in Dead Money for reference.

_ Ow. _

That’s Perse’s first thought. It’s becoming alarmingly common that he wakes up to the thought ‘Ow what happened while I was out’, with the answer usually being ‘you were blackout drunk, tried to wrestle one of the Kings, and got your ass kicked, now go apologize to the King’ or ‘you charged a nightkin with a knife, what did you think was going to happen’. This time, though...His body throbs in a way that he hadn’t felt before, in some very specific places. His head hurts, his back hurts, his chest hurts. And he feels...heavy. 

_ What? _

His eye clears and widens when they take in the scene around him. He is...not in the Mojave. If he is, it’s a part he’s never seen before. Big buildings, smoke rising from large towers, and blue light stopping him from just jumping off the balcony he’s standing on and running away. 

_ Where am I? What happened? _

He’s wearing...a gown of some kind, like the ones in old world doctor’s offices. He immediately wants to tear it off, but when he starts to reach for the fabric, his chest aches. Experimentally, he stretches the neckline slightly and peers down it. He’s unbound, unsurprisingly, but...there are sutures. Down his chest. Right over his heart.

He puts a hand over his heart.. There is no comforting beat. It’s a steady vibration with the faint sense of pulsing. That...doesn’t feel like his heart. 

He is now scared of why his head and back hurt now. Dirty fingers experimentally reach up to his forehead, above the bullet scar and search until they find-

Yup. More sutures.

Down the back?

Even more.

_ What the _ ** _fuck_ ** _ is going on?? _

Alright. Time to find out where he is. And what happened to him. And now much of this can blamed on his own stupidity.

* * *

...brains. In jars.

Well, that’s not in any way what Perse had imagined happened to him. It provides way more questions than answers.

“BE WARNED, INTRUDER. YOU ARE IN THE PRESENCE OF THE MIGHTY THINK TANK OF BIG MT. THE COLLECTIVE GENIUSES OF- WE- WHICH ONE OF YOU SELF-PROFESSED GENIUSES HAS BEEN ADJUSTING MY VOLUME KNOB?”

Perse can’t help a garbled snort of laughter, pressing it into his hand. The brains all seem to be talking through one voicebox, and they are hilarious. He gets a faint flashback to Doc Henry in Jacobstown saying that brains in biomed gel don’t last forever. This...might be what happens to them.

“WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT?”

Perse snorts again, even though the action hurts what’s left of _ his _voice box. It makes the brain up front stare at him. 

“DID ANYONE CATCH THAT? BOROUS, YOU WORK WITH ANIMALS, TRANSLATE!”

“-It’s a LOBOTOMITE. Here! in the DOME!-”

“IF THIS COULDN’T GET ANY WORSE, NOW WE’VE GOT LOBOTOMITES! DALA, GET THE SPRAY BOTTLE BEFORE IT EXCRETES OVER EVERYTHING.”

_ First of all, _ ** _FUCK YOU._ **

He, of course, can’t scream that at them, so Perse very calmly flips off the brains.

“ARE THOSE...PENISES ON ITS HANDS? AND AN ERECT ONE AT THAT? DISGUSTING.”

Then they all start yammering about penises and features and orifices and _ Oh, for FUCK’S SAKE, this HAS TO STOP. _ Perse adjusts his hands. _ Let’s try this again _ . He holds up his pointer finger, and then points to himself. _ One of me. _ Then he holds up five fingers, and points at them. _ Five of you. _

“IF IT TRIES TO INSERT THEM, ACTIVATE VIVISECTORS!”

“-Doctor Klein! WAIT! I..I don’t believe those gestures were random. Random AT ALL! It’s been following our conversation. The lobotomite...understands us!-”

_ THANK YOU. _

“NONSENSE! LOBOTOMITES CAN’T COMPREHEND US!”

Perse lets out a slow breath in a sigh as they babble among themselves. 

“ALL OF YOU, POWER DOWN, SHUT UP, AND LET ME REMIND YOU ONCE AGAIN HOW WRONG YOU ALL ARE. LOBOTOMITE. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”

_ YES. _Perse nods.

“CAN YOU SPEAK?”

_ FUCK. _Perse shakes his head and taps his throat with a finger, showing the scar. Klein peers forward.

“IT’S DEFECTIVE. BUT IT UNDERSTANDS US.”

This...isn’t going to go anywhere. The more that Perse tries to pantomime, the less the Think Tank understands, and yes or no questions can only get them so far. Finally, Dr. 8 chimes in and something about the transmission makes Perse’s PipBoy beep. Everyone goes quiet as Perse flips it on. It shows code that converts into speech.

**We can get the lobotomite to help us.**

“*Stop the presses!*” Dr. O yells through Klein’s voicebox. “*Just in from my eye monitors? Is that RobCo tech on your arm? It is! What’s your agenda bringing that in here?*”

Perse grins and hunts through the PipBoy, poking at it until he finds the control panel. He taps out a few sets of code, crosses his fingers, and taps a button to send it out.

_ “What do you want me to help you with?” _

It takes a moment for the code to process, and Klein replies, “GREAT, NOW THERE’S TWO OF THEM, AND THIS ONE TAKES LONGER. MARVELLOUS.”

Perse manages to time the code with a raised eyebrow. “_Do_ _ you want me to help you? Because this sounds like you don’t want me to help you.” _

Dala coos, “Such an innovative teddy bear. Look at the muscles in its face moving, shifting expression."

_ "First, I'm not a teddy bear. Second, you lobotomized me? And whatever else you did?" _

"We removed your brain, yes."

...all of this. All of this can be blamed on his own stupidity.


	3. Higgs Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perse tries to learn more about these mad fuckers that captured him. He finds one oddly endearing, even if he's quietly enraged with being a captive.

Perse practically bursts through the doors to Higgs Vilage, slamming them shut behind him to avoid any more roboscorpions coming in - _ robot scorpions, whose bright idea was that and why were they so fucking DANGEROUS I HAVE USED EVERY STIMPAK I OWN IN THIS PLACE. _ He whirls around, scanning on his compass to see if there are any enemies ready to jump him like there have been in _ every other place he’s been in this forsaken place. _When nothing registers, he sinks slowly to the ground, panting and nursing his wounds. He leans against the cold metal door, eating some leftovers that had somehow survived in the Think Tank and drinking some water. It won’t fix his wounds, but it at least will give him energy to push through. Once he can breathe easier, he takes in the view around him.

Damn, though...Higgs Village is something to behold.

They’re all houses. Old 50s style houses, with lawns and flowers, and a fountain no longer runs in the middle. He counts out six houses and makes the connection quickly. Six houses for six main scientists. 

He climbs slowly to his feet and makes his way down the metal stairs, boots clanging with each step. There is still no one - perhaps the place has managed to stay locked tight this long, and he gets the feeling that the brains haven’t exactly come back to reclaim the space. Dala had told him not to go in...but he can’t help but be curious here. He has to find out more about the scientists that turned themselves into brains in jars. He hops down onto a storage container and lands in the soft grass. 

It’s artificial. It has to be in this place, with no water or sunlight. The flowers are too. He feels the petals and feels plastic. What a shame. That would have been an innovation and a half. He cuts between the houses and checks out the fountain. After looting the bottlecaps from inside it (why would they have thrown bottlecaps in, he has no idea), he sits on the edge of the fountain and scans the houses. 

_ Whose do I loot - I mean examine - first? _

He decides to start at the one in front of him and go numerically from there, so he strides up to House #101. Perse gently presses open the door - _ did they really not lock anything when the bombs dropped? _\- and steps inside. As his eye adjusts to the room, he gapes at the fully stocked bar beside the door. 

He takes every bottle of whiskey there, gladly making room in his backpack for it. He adds the Sunset Sarsaparillas too - he goes through them far too quickly here - and crawls through all of the belongings. It seems very nonchalant...until he finds the office with the big glowing and moving eye. And Klein’s gloves.

...he turns and leaves as fast as he can. Nope. He’s not staying in Klein’s house any longer. 

He still takes Klein’s whiskey, though. And the Book Chute tape.

House #102 appears to Dr. Mobius’s house - he’s heard the man talk about Mentat breaks and there are more Mentats here than Perse has ever seen. #103 is Borous’s...and he prefers not to think about what he found in that scientist’s basement until he can cross-examine the absolute FUCK out of that doctor because _ WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO YOUR DOG BOROUS _. He nabs the dog bowl to shake in the scientist’s face and the Nuka Cola in the playground set. #104 is...definitely Dala’s, and Perse doesn’t touch anything in there, apart from a single teddy bear (which is wrapped up in a jacket because who knows what happened to that teddy bear). #108 is Dr. 8’s - which hey, there’s the Jukebox tape and the Opera Singer audio sample that 8 was telling him about. Those will come in handy. 

Then...there’s the last one. #000. It doesn’t take a genius to guess who this belongs to. Dr. O. Or...maybe it’s 0? That’s a question to ask when he gets back. 

He steps inside and takes a look around. It’s not a fancy house by any stretch of the imagination - quite similar to every other house here, apart from the absolutely demolished Securitron by the front door. And the one at the top of the stairs. Perse pokes around a bit more to find the kitchen…

Well. O definitely has a thing against House. Perse pulls a knife out of the photo, steps back against the far edge of the kitchen, and whips it back into the photo. It lands with a bullseye right in the man’s face. Perse grins. He is not a fan of House either. It feels good to do that.

Pocketing a stimpak and Med-X that he finds (_ thank you, O, for having something that I desperately need, but why were they on the roof _), he prowls a little more. There’s another audio sample, there’s a lot of scrap, and...why are there electronics in the bathroom. And what happened to O’s bed?

Perse drags the mattress off the pile of rubble and settles it on the floor. He is willing to bet that O just slept on the couch while he had a body. Left more room upstairs for his projects. It’s...oddly endearing. It takes effort to remember that O’s experiments weren’t exactly humane. Perse shakes it off and pulls off his jacket, draping it over himself. At least he can guarantee that it’s safe here. He’ll rest for the night and then make the trek back to the Think Tank in the morning.

* * *

Dr. O is still a bit frosty with Perse having a PipBoy, Perse can tell that much. But given that it’s the only way he can communicate with the Think Tank, it has to stay on his arm. Still, he makes his way over to Dr. O and gives him a wave with the hand that isn’t immediately adjacent to RobCo technology. 

“*Breaking news, Lobotomite enters the Think Tank. It’s purpose, unknown. Its presence here, unpossible.*”

Perse blinks, decides that he is NOT going to correct a neurotic brain in a jar, and carefully types out his response. _ “Hello, Dr. O.” _

“*O? O yes, I'm not going to bother correcting you. At least you got the "Doctor" part correct. I can be grateful for that, at least.*” The brain scoffs. Perse blinks.

_ “You have another name?” _

“*Yeah, I do. It wasn't always "O." I took that one by default because sometimes it's easier to accept the mistake as long as the purpose works.*” 

Perse gets that. He deeply, deeply gets that. 

“*I don't want to get into it. It's a sore topic with me. Makes my gel ripple.*”

Perse taps out the reply. “_ I get it. I spent years being called the wrong name.” _

Dr. O leans in closer. “*You did? I mean, they obviously weren’t geniuses. You’d expect geniuses to get it right.*”

Perse nods. _ “Called me Graham. It was my-” _ he changes it at the last minute from ‘owner’, _ “guardian’s last name. Not MINE. But that’s what they called me.” _

“*So, not-Graham, then?*”

Perse makes a barking noise, the closest thing he can to laughter while his shoulders shake and nods. Sure. Why not. He taps out a reply. _ “You sure you don’t want to talk about it? I can’t interrupt and I’m a good listener. Even got the ears for it.” _He wiggles his ears to punctuate the last part.

O groans. “*Great. Psychology. Clearly the worst of the Sciences, right after Colosto-Diarrhetics.*”

Perse has no idea what that is and he really, really doesn’t want to know. In the meantime, he smiles, crosses his arms behind his back, and waits for O to speak. 

“*O-kay, so my name isn't "O." Never was. It was circular, a single character, digit, but not "O." But even with enhanced sensors, no one here could get it right! Always kept seeing the letter, not the number.*”

The house. #000. Of course. Perse taps out a reply almost frantically. _ “0? Your name is Zero?” _

If a brain in a jar could jump for joy or clasp a face with hands, 0 would be doing it, Perse is sure. “*Yes! Thank you. **Zero**. I am Zero. How hard is that? A narrow, thin Zero.*”

Perse smiles as he taps out a reply. _ “It’s a cool name. Do you want me to call you Zero?” _

The brain doesn’t even seem to register the compliment, only that it was a comment. “*Zero's my name. I'm proud of it, all right? It doesn't get the recognition it deserves.*” Then the phrase finally registers and Dr. 0 leans back. “*O. Um...thank you. Truth be told, my emotional attachment to it doesn't even register compared to just having people recognize the difference!*”

Perse deeply gets that.

“*It's just that they're both sort of... round... and hollow. So when they monitor-scan them, they assume that... "Oh, it's O!" Vivisect me, please.*”

Another barking snort. Perse begins to type a response and notices something on the screen - the difference between an O and a 0 on his screen. 

_ OH! _

He points at Dr. 0 and then holds up his hand to make an O with one hand. Then he holds a finger behind it with the other to make a slash. Dr. 0 peers at it. “*A...slash? What?*”

Perse puts his hands down and types. _ “Standard termlink code, Doctor. Do you really not know this or are you just messing with me?” _

“*Did... did I shoot myself with a brainial beam or something? That's brilliant! I mean, I would have come to the same conclusion. Eventually...*”

There is a sigh. “*O- er, who am I deceiving? I never would have figured that out. I can't figure anything out! I'm... aighhh... I'm useless.*”

A neurotic, self-deprecating brain. Fascinating. Perse laughs silently. _ “There, there. I have no idea how you all survived this long.” _

“*We're smart. Smarter than we give ourselves credit for. I was smart enough to talk to you, give you a chance - and now look what happened!*”

Perse grins. _ “I bet you say that to all the boys.” _

Dr. 0 stills. Perse isn’t sure if that ventured too much into Dala territory and the brain is trying to vomit without a mouth, or if he managed to say something good. Either way, the eyes zoom in to study him and lean back. “*You’re a strange one.*”

_ “I try.” _

“*I like your solution! With that kind of slash down the middle, I could set myself apart! If I wanted to.*” Dr. 0 whirls around a bit, ecstatic. “*The biggest zero in all the Think Tank! They won’t be able to escape it, that diagonal slash right down the middle.*”

The brain stills and looks at him. “*Thanks. Talking to you... it really helped unclog some frustration,*” Dr. 0 pauses and his voice sounds amazed. “Talking. What a primitive form of thought-kicking.*”

_ “Anytime, Doctor. Anytime. By the way, I threw a new knife at House's picture in your house. Right in the face." _

Dr. 0 blinks. "*Great. That moron always needs another knife in his face.*" 

Then there is a pause. "*Wait. Why were you in Higgs Village? And why did you bring RobCo tech INTO MY HOUSE?*"

_ "IT WAS HIDE OR GET STABBED BY _ _ LOBOTOMITES. AND THERE WERE TWO BROKEN SECURITRONS IN YOUR HOUSE._"

"*Because they were BROKEN!*"

It is clearly never a dull moment in Big MT.


	4. Auto-Doc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perse goes to find not his brain, but his voice. He _might_ find a way to get it back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am preceding this chapter with the understanding that I am neither mute nor trans. If what I have written is disrespectful, please let me know and I will either make adjustments or remove the chapter entirely.
> 
> As for the Auto-Doc's abilities, I am running on what I know from the Dead Money DLC, where we know a voice can be modified, but maybe not brought back.

The trauma harnesses are fucking terrifying. Perse has absolutely no qualms about saying that. It’s not just the sight of them that horrifies him - skeletons dragged into fighting and moving, the bones and sightless eyes staring at him behind a flamethrower- but the concept. A dying body stuck in a suit, screaming inside to be let out, and dying slowly while the suit kept them moving, no rest even after their death. He dispatches every single one with efficiency, the Sonic Emitter weakening them before he can dodge the flames and take their heads off with a Proton Axe. When he is surrounded by bones, he carefully kicks dirt over them, a half burial.

_ I am so sorry, _ he mouths in a silent prayer. _ You’ve been trapped for too long. You’re free now. _

Still, he presses through the hordes of lobotomites, roboscorpions, and trauma harnesses to make his way to the latter’s source. He knows that, realistically, he shouldn’t be visiting every nook and cranny of the Big MT. The brains warned him against it (which is absolutely why he’s doing it, because fuck them, even if he kinda likes Dr. 0’s personality), and he has some specific places to look for the technologies. But...he has a good feeling about Y-17. It’s a medical lab - perhaps there are some helpful things to find there. The scar on his throat itches at the thought.

He blasts his way through the Mr. Orderlies, beyond grateful the sonic emitter, and tears through every desk and crate for anything he can find. All helpful items - bottle caps, scrap, supplies...he takes them all. There's even enough materials to make a doctor's bag or two. But it is on a desk on the upper level that he hits the Jackpot. A holotape: SINK Personality - Auto-Doc. 

Perse makes the closest thing to a triumphant sound that he can, punching the air as a hissing squeak makes his way out of his destroyed throat. Then he spends a moment doubled over, a hand resting on his throat as it throbs with the effort of trying to use it. _ This is why I was looking for you. _ With that, he doesn’t even finish examining the place. He turns tail, clutching the holotape close to him like a newborn, and runs all the way back to the Think Tank. All the while, Perse’s Tesla Coils repeat the same litany over and over again. _ I might get to talk again, I might get to talk again, I might get to talk again! _

He is rather battered and bruised by the time he gets back, covered in blood both his own and not. Nightstalkers. Why are there so many nightstalkers? No time to think about it, and there is no time to stop and check in with the Think Tank (and he doubts they would want him there, covered in blood as he is, Klein would probably scream about germs and contamination). Perse instead takes the elevator immediately up to the Sink, rocking back and forth on his heels the whole ride up. The anticipation is killing him, and he pushes through the door with excitement.

“Greetings, sir,” SCIU calls over, “I hope sir enjoyed sir’s time out and is ready to relax.”

Perse idly pats SCIU’s interface as a gentle hello and takes out the holotape from a pocket in his coat. It is clean and undamaged, and with a silent prayer up to whatever science gods may be up there, he presses the tape into the Auto-Doc. There is a moment as the Auto-Doc comes back online, and it drawls, “Alright, let’s have a look at you.”

Perse flushes a bit in embarrassment - he's always been a sucker for a good voice, even if it's just a computer - but raises his arms for a proper inspection.

“Well, you’re not about to fall over dead,” the Auto-Doc replies. “But you’ve taken quite a beating, ain’t you? Not to mention the state of those vocal chords.”

Perse shrugs and nods. _ My ass is grass and people keep trying to mow it. _

“Alright. We’ll get you fixed up. Anything else you’re hoping for?”

Perse taps a finger and taps his chest, making a snipping motion with his fingers. _ Can you cut my tits off? _

“You want that kind of surgery? Hm, I don’t think I have the programming for that. I used to - you’ll need to find the backup tape.”

_ Can do. _He’s pretty sure he knows where it is. Now, he just has to find a way to deal with the force fields surrounding those areas and pick up his holy grail.

“For now, hop on in. I’ll get started on your body, and we’ll see if we can’t do anything about your throat.”

Perse grins, strips off his armour in an uncaring clutter on the ground, and hops in the Auto-Doc. Anything will be better than what he’s got right now. He’ll take it.

* * *

“I got some good news and some bad news for you, kid,” the Auto-Doc tells him afterward. “You want me to wait until you’re a little less woozy?”

Perse wobbles a bit out of the Auto-Doc, resting his hand against the wall. He hasn’t felt this good in ages. There’s no pain, no radiation, no aches or scrapes or anything. He feels almost like a new man. Hell, he might even see if he can arrange for this machine to cut some unnecessary bits off. That could work. He holds up a finger, waiting for the world to settle, and then gives the Auto-Doc a thumbs up. 

_ Go ahead. _

“So good news, I can get rid of the pain in your throat when you do try to make sound. That shouldn’t be too hard.”

Perse takes the hint and sighs. _ I think I know the bad news. _

“Yeah, I’m sorry, kid. I can work wonders, but I don’t think I could give you back your voice. I could change it, make it sound different if you had it, but I don’t think I could give you your full voice again. Estimated success looks something like 10% for a complete reconstruction, and if there's a mistake, it could make it even worse.”

That’s rather disappointing. He sighs but shrugs. _ It was a long shot, I know. _

“Tell you what. I might be able to make you a bit more vocal, though. Some humming, that sort of thing. Partial reconstruction looks like a 70% chance of success. You got any samples of your voice?”

Perse wiggles his PipBoy and nods. 

“Alright. Pop it in and hop on in. I’ll see what I can do.”

Perse copies the first recording he ever made onto a holotape, plugs it in, and climbs back into the Auto-Doc.

_ Well, here goes nothing. _

* * *

“WHAT IS THAT NOISE PLAYING FROM UP THERE? WHAT IS THE LOBOTOMITE DOING?”

“*Whatever it is, it’s been playing on repeat.*”

“Truly, the lobotomite has...interesting tastes.”

“-WHAT could the haunting sound BE? What has Mobius LEFT BEHIND?-”

“8, AMPLIFY THE SOUND!”

"@@[$######$]@@"

With a bit of wiggling from Dr. 8, the faint sounds from the floor above are now echoing through the main hall of the Think Tank.

_ “My name is Perse. I got this Pipboy from a dead Vault dweller. It’s 2277, I am twenty seven, and it’s been...six months since I left the Legion. I had to leave. They threw the Malpais Legate - Joshua Graham, Mr. Graham, the man who owned me - into the Grand Canyon covered in pitch on fire, and they killed every slave he owned. Apart from me. Dorothea helped me get out, I ran like the fucking wind, and I’ve been hiding since. It’s been...six months that I’ve been free. I missed it. I missed people not telling me what to do. I missed walking without being told where to go. I missed not having a collar on my neck. Gods, the feeling of a bare neck is amazing. I don't have to listen to Joshua read from scripture, no one is ever gonna call me 'Perse Graham' again, fuck I hated that, I never have to see Caesar's face again...I’m free and I’m not going back. I’d rather die than go back into that life. Although, knowing Caesar, they’re looking for me. Maybe they’ll crucify me too. They have to to send that message to the rest of the Legion. No one runs from Caesar and lives. Well...FUCK YOU, CAESAR. FUCK YOU. I’M NOT GOING BACK. FUCK YOU ALL. I’D RATHER BE A DEAD MAN THAN A SLAVE. MY NAME IS PERSE OF THE TWIN MOTHERS AND I AM A FREE MAN. If you want me, you bastards...you’d better catch me.” _

There is quiet, the sound echoing, before the message starts to play again. 

“*Shut it off, 8.*” 0 is the one to interject and stop it. “*We’ve...heard enough.*”

None of them know what Caesar’s Legion is. They don’t even know what the Grand Canyon is anymore, other than that it’s something from outside the crater. They do know what a Vault is, and what a PipBoy is - 0 looks ready to explode at the mention of it. But other than that, they each note different things. Klein faintly remembers the word 'slave' and recognizes that their lobotomite is used to being told what to do - good for the Think Tank, they chose a lobotomite used to compliance. Borous applauds a fellow histrionic speaker and their cries of triumph, even if it isn’t about anything remotely related to science. Dala cannot help but imagine the lobotomite’s face contorting with the shouts, face muscles contracting and tensing, mouth moving with each word, and her gel ripples with excitement. 8 wonders if there is anything around the Think Tank with his old voice recorded on it, and imagines how good sonjaculations will feel accompanied by his old voice. 

And 0...0 hears the pride is every decibel of Perse’s voice. Not the lobotomite. Perse. The names are important. He knows that better than anything else. He’ll remember that name. A proud name for a proud man. And...somehow he remembers what it sounds like. An old world name: Perseus - a slayer of monsters. That sounds a bit like the lob- Perse, given how many times he's come back to the Think Tank covered in blood. Someone tried to kill him, to silence him, and here still Perse stands. 

0’s gel ripples with a punch of...something emotional. Pride, yes. A bit of insignificance, because Perse is stronger and more amazing than 0 will ever be. Then, there is something else. Something that feels more than a little like Dala when she talks about her formography...

He busies himself with a machine and pops, trying to distract himself from the thoughts. Above him, the faint sounds of Perse's voice and the whirring of the Auto-Doc keeps playing. He isn't sure what it foretells. He isn't sure if he'll like it.


	5. Top Surgery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next surgical goal is achieved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From what I have read, the recovery from FTM top surgery takes at least two weeks, and I am imagining that it'll be a little longer given that there isn't exactly prime medical care in the Wastleland. The Auto-Doc does its best and is definitely good at the post-op situation, but Perse is going to be climbing the walls in the meantime. So he needs something to do.

Dr. 0 pauses in his work when the pacification field kicks in. It works better than a doorbell – means Perse is back from whatever expedition he’s on. Normally, the lobotomite stumbles in, bloody and dirty, out of ammo and angry. He sits at the bottom of the ramp, head on his knees, and gathers his breath before heading up to the Sink. Sometimes, if his trip has been good and he has managed to avoid being shot or set on fire, he’ll come straight up and chat.

0 likes those days, usually because Perse comes to talk to him. It should be repetitive at this point (0 certainly articulates to Perse that it’s repetitive to give the illusion that there isn’t any sentiment or care in it) but it’s not. He likes Perse talking to him – the man has good ideas, and can wrap his head around mechanical steps and concepts pretty well. He takes a while to talk, having to type things out on the Pipboy when they get long and complicated (and honestly, that RobCo tech is probably the worst thing about those visits, having to see that damned PipBoy on his arm every single time), but he always has good things to say. He’s even trying to teach 0 some signs so that he doesn’t have to type out short words. Takes up valuable space in his brain, sure, but oddly enough, 0 finds it important. He wouldn't put in the effort for 8, but it feels...necessary.

Today, though, Perse doesn’t stop in. Dala is at the top of the ramp, watching, and starts to call out a greeting. “Greetings, little teddy bear-“

But she doesn’t finish, and they hear the sound of the elevator. Dala comes back, drooping a little with displeasure.

“*What happened?*” 0 asks.

“I am not sure,” Dala says. “They rushed past me straight for the elevator without a word. They were holding a backup file for one of the Sink systems, I believe.”

“*Did they look…upset?*” 0 feels a little hesitant to ask.

“On the contrary. Excited. _Very _excited. And singed.”

Set on fire. Probably something with X-17 then.

"You are quite curious about our little lobotomite, Dr. 0. Is there something you would like to share? Any...astute observations?"

0 bristles. "*I know what you're implying, Dala, and leave it be. I'm still not engaging in formography, and the lobotomite is simply a good conversation partner.*"

After a short time, Perse doesn't rush back down and out, as they have before. In fact, they don’t hear anything for some time, and the Think Tank turns to focus on their work. 0's focus is a little shot, trying to work out what Perse is up to that's taking so long - he's not injured, so perhaps he's trying to solve a problem? Why didn't he come to the Think Tank if so? Finally, 0 gets himself together, making a note to work out why his thoughts are so easily preoccupied by the lobotomite, and goes back to his work.

Hours later, Perse stumbles down for a visit. He isn’t wearing armour or carrying weapons, so he’s not rushing back outside. In fact, he’s mostly without any clothes at all. Bandages wrap tightly around his chest, and he's wearing loose pants on at the bottom, ever present Pipboy on his bare arm, and he’s grinning like an idiot. He's stumbling a bit, swaying, and guides himself along the wall and railings for stability.

0 initially doesn’t approach him, but Perse makes his way over to 0 anyways. When Perse starts to stagger, 0 sweeps over to catch him, a monitor ducking down for Perse to grip on to. “*O, what’s all this then?*” He asks.

Perse steadies himself on the robotical arm and sends a message that’s been waiting on his Pipboy. _I GOT MY TITS OFF. FINALLY._

0 doesn’t understand. “*What?*”

Perse turns sideways, leaning a bit on 0 for stability, and 0 does a quick optical scan. Sure enough, the two fat lumps that were on Perse’s chest…are gone. Not just flattened by the bandages...gone. “*You meant to have them off?*” 0 asks.

Perse nods, and spells out X-17 on his fingers before typing another message. _Auto-Doc needed backup systems to make it work. Better than having to keep tying them down every day – just cut the fuckers off!_

0 has a memory of the Think Tanks human lives, faintly. Dala would have sold her soul to have the reverse of that process, if he remembers right. “*O, I see. And it’s…better?*” He has a hard time wrapping his brain around how significant body parts are to the human experience, especially sexually dimorphic parts.

Perse nods, obviously elated. He provides no other explanation, not that 0 wants it.

“*That’s good, then. Breaking yourself to fix it. Interesting research metholodology.*”

There is a hissing, cracking laugh and Perse's shoulders shake with it. _Chest today, and when it heals, the Auto-Doc’s gonna take another crack at my voice box. I still won’t be able to talk, but I might be able to make some regular human noises. _

“*Mobius’s wretched thing has a use, then. Well, better than having to get us to do it.*” Privately, 0 is glad that Perse feels better.

They make it over to 0’s work station, and Perse takes his usual spot sitting on the work table. The man is wobbly, and it’s best that he stays still.

_What are you working on today, Dr. 0? _He asks.

It still feels so good to hear his name like that, even if it's just a typed out message. They talk for a while about tech, and finally, Perse asks a question that has been weighing on his.

_These disks, like the holotapes. Is there a way to do the same thing but…smaller?_

“*Theoretically, yes,*” 0 explains. “*It depends on what kind of information. Having one program on a disk wouldn’t take a lot of space, but if you want to make the disk small, you have to compress all the circuits together and use smaller parts. Not to mention that it wouldn’t be able to go in normal holodisk slots. You’d have to either make a whole new computer or a…ugh…*”

_Thing to add on that’ll make it work?_

“*Yes, there’s a word.*” 0 shakes his monitor in annoyance. It's right there, on the tip of his tongue.

_Talk around it. _

This is something they’ve tried, and sometimes it works. “*Change it, make it work, add on, adapt…adaptor! You’d need to make an adaptor!*”

Perse grins at him and sends him a quick _Nicely done _message. 0 does a little spin on the spot. Maybe. Shut up.

_How small could you make something like that?_

“*Well…hm. I’ll have to think about that.*” He puzzles it over for a moment. “*Small.*”

_Like a poker chip size? _Perse demonstrates with an o shape of his hand.

0 didn't get into the Think Tank by being stupid. "*You saw one.*"

Perse nods. _A platinum poker chip, meant to slide into a special computer. It seems so...out of this world to me. And because it only goes in the one computer..._

"*No one knows what's on it,*" 0 finishes. "*Hm. That is a puzzle. And where did it come from?*"

_Take a wild guess. _Perse taps his Pipboy and that visual cue is all is takes for 0 to bristle.

"*Of course Robert House managed it. Of _course._*"

Perse lets out a single hiss of a laugh. _There's just the one, I think, but it's the reason I got shot in the head so needless to say I want to know more about it. Maybe we can work on it together?_

Dr. 0 pauses. The idea of working on something together suggests that one of them isn't as good as the other, so the two need to work together to generate better results. In the depths of his own self-loathing and inferiority complex, 0 knows that the unhelpful one is him. Give Perse enough time and books to read and the man could figure it out. As such, the idea of a partner project initially revolts him, and he feels himself priming a sentence along those lines. 

Then Perse has to add, _It would be really nice to work with you. I like talking to you and I know working with you would be great._

And there goes the drive behind his response. 'I know working with you would be great.' 0 doesn't have a chest or stomach anymore, nothing to physiologically show his joy, but he can definitely feel it rippling through his synapses. A need suddenly burns in him - a need to show Perse what he can do, to work with someone, to share in the joys of Science together - and he blurts out "*Yes!*"

Then he pauses, fake coughs to try and cover up his enthusiasm, and continues, "*I mean, I believe it would be helpful. You have hands and such, and you are not entirely useless.*"

Clearly he doesn't cover it well enough, because Perse's resulting grin is bright and warm and makes 0's gel ripple. _We can work on some prototypes now then? I don't have the chip - I haven't had the guts to go talk to the people who took it - but we can start on_ _testing_.

Working together. A primitive form of thought-kicking and mutually assured progress...but it is more than functional. The lobotomite is teaching them such interesting things.


	6. Dr. Mobius - and Perse's Brain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Forbidden Zone.

Dr. Mobius is…not at all what Perse expected.

From the ranting over the intercom and the broadcasts coming into the Think Tank, Perse had been under the impression that the brain had gone completely psychotic, bordering on homicidal. All the talk of sucking out intelligence, chugging mentats like it was the end of the world, and everything else had supported that. But the moment that Perse walks into the Forbidden Dome, Proton Axe at the ready to embed itself into the scientist…he is stunned. It’s dark and neglected in the dome, the walls covered in equations that don’t seem to have a clear start or stop, and that doesn’t include Mobius himself. The brain’s chassis creaks, one screen is cracked and dark, and he hums as he puts around the room.

Perse pauses for a moment, trying to assess the threat with whatever skill his Tesla coils have, and starts silently laughing at himself.

The brain is no threat. Either that, or he’s very good at hiding it.

Perse takes a gamble and puts his axe away, readying his Pip-Boy to type. He walks slowly up to the brain.

“_Electron’s connected to the…neutron. The neutron’s attached to the…meson, Meson’s connected to the…proton!” _Mobius sings, and Perse snickers to himself before tapping on the closest monitor screen.

_Hello? _He waves when the monitor turns toward him.

“Mmm? Oh…hello there. Eh, you are there, aren’t you?” Mobius’s monitors are dirty and the working one peers forward at him. “Forgive my confusion, so hard to tell these days.”

Perse nods. _I am._

“Good. You seem familiar, somehow. I’m guessing…you’re here for your brain, perhaps? It’s just up there.” The eye monitor jerks off to the side, gesturing up the stairs. “Such a nice brain, young, very bright, had so much to say.”

Perse raises an eyebrow. Perhaps it did, since he didn’t have working vocal cords anymore.

Mobius hums. “A little hard to see you, can you walk into my left…er, right FOV cone?” Cautiously, Perse steps to his right, and Dr. Mobius makes a pleased sound. “Ah, that’s it, you’re coming into focus nicely.”

Perse taps out a quick response. _Better?_

“Depth perception is a problem with this old monitor of mine. Went black a while ago. That’s old age for you!” The old scientist laughs, and Perse beams with him. “Should look at getting the visual nerves re-attached…it’s just that the right eye would see the wrong things. The flying tortoises were the worst.”

_I can’t fix your monitor, but if you’re getting ghost reception, I could fix that?_

“The ghosts aren’t real? That changes everything. Why, I can save my computing power for other perceptual unpossibilities. Please, be my guest, the receptor is there…”

Perse fiddles for a while to get at it, but manages to make the connections right and Mobius swirls around in delight before he putters over to a table where Mentats are lying around. “Would you care for a mentat?”

_Yes. Thank you, Doctor. _Perse picks up a couple and tucks them into his pocket for later.

“Mmm. I love Mentats. Delicious and smarty. I have all sorts of amazingly science-arific thoughts and ideas when those chalky tablets are zipping through my biogel. I forget them all not longer after, though, especially with all the data constipating my memory core. Afraid binary streams might shoot out my chassis.”

Perse has no idea what that means but he nods as though he does.

“Had to start using the dome floor and walls here to inscribe equations, although I’ve somewhat lost track of where they start and end.”

Mobius is like the weird uncle Perse never had. It’s adorable. Perse taps out a greeting on his PipBoy and asks, _That big scorpion out front is quite something. When it wasn’t shooting at me, I mean._

“Oh…did I leave that on? I thought I’d powered it down – was wondering what was causing the power outages.”

_You…aren’t exactly what I was expecting, Mobius._

“Really? That implies pre-conceived notions – theories and a hypothesis about this meeting? Please extrapolate. What was I…supposed to be like? After all, it might be worth a cognitive re-alignment if your theoretical Mobius is better than I.”

Perse snorts. _All the shouting about doom and stinging and stealing intelligence…thought you’d be evil. That and you stole my brain. Which, by the way, why did you do that?_

“Oh, a variety of raisins. You’re something of a homily. Er, anomaly? You’re really quiet special, and not in the cranially-challenged way, or the silent way.”

Perse listens patiently to the explanation about why brains can’t move about of their own volition and can’t leave Big MT. That Mobius had to drug himself to work himself up to a rage to scare the Think Tank, that the Think Tank for some ethical reason, or conscience, can’t leave Big MT. That Mobius rewrote everyone’s names, including his own, to make recursion loops and trap their processors so that they wouldn’t test any of Mobius’s plans and escape. It’s a bit horrific, but Perse is slowly starting to understand.

“They have all forgotten themselves. And not only themselves, but the world, sense of time, andhistory. All that is left…is what’s here,” Mobius’s monitor sweeps around in a circle, “I reprogrammed their chronometers, geometers, and cartography programs. This is now their world, here, Big MT. It was a merciful lobotomy, really, thinking back. They were my friends, but…sometimes they would take things too far.”

Mobius’s voice sounds sad and thinking back to all of the experiments, Perse understands exactly what Mobius means.

“And the world isn’t ready for that kind of too-far-thing-taking. That’s my professional opinion, anyway, and I am told I was once quiet professional.”

Perse connects a dot and, with a widening eye, taps out a frantic message. _And because they’re so smart, you had to keep them busy so they wouldn’t figure out that you had lobotomized them and that there was a world out there. And when I came along..._

“You were the final variable, yes, quiet as you are,” Mobius sighs. “They saw that their world was larger than they perceived. Bacteria, finally able to see its host. You were irrefutable proof that there was a world outside. And then there was the whole ‘brain’ fiasco, which forced me take steps.”

_You took my brain so they couldn’t work out how the programming changed on the Auto-Doc. So they can’t put their brains into something that moves and walk out. But you had them look for the technology that could possibly put my brain back in. And everything else. Why?_

“Coincidence. The X-2 antenna can be used to focus your alpha wave frequency thought patterns. The Sneaky Suit? It houses a cardiac regulator. And the sonic soundwave projecto-emitter was never intended as a weapon. It was a medicinal vertebrae-pulse-desensitizer.”

Perse hums in understanding. So there is a way to get his brain back in.

“In short: brains, a heart, and courage…spine. I think there was a story once where a band of murderous thugs sought these things. They had them all the time in the story. Didn’t stop them from murdering to get them, and it won’t stop the Think Tank either.”

Perse will have to ask Raul about that.

_Any other data transmitted in the broadcast?_

“Yes, my overly aggressive chemmed-up broadcast was designed to keep reinforcing the forget, fear, rinse, and repeat program. But I couldn’t delete you or your arrival any more than I could the other visitors. Only so much Science can do when you started talking to them.”

Perse has a flashback to Dr. 0 with a soft sigh. Of course. On the edge of that stupidity is a morally grey scientist ready to tear the world apart. Maybe less than the others, since it wasn’t biology, but _still._

“You’re really quiet difficult to ignore, you know. It’s because you’re…well, bah! Rather intriguing, if you’ll forgive an old brain for saying so. You didn’t say a word and they hang off of them. Especially 0.”

Perse smiles sadly. _Can I get my brain back? I kind of need it._

“And does it even want to go back with you? Maybe you should ask it.”

Perse’s thought process screeches to a halt.

_WHAT._

* * *

“Well, well, look who finally dragged themselves in out of the Wasteland. And where have we been, hmm? Crawling through pits of radioactive muck again?”

Perse stares in horror and signs frantically, knowing that his brain with comprehend the motions, _ONCE. THAT WAS ONCE._

“And I will never let you forget it. I am your brain, after all. That’s my job. And I must say, it is so nice to be able to articulate all of this out loud. That has been quite a detriment, I must say.”

_That wasn’t my fault. _

The brain sighs, extremely put upon. “No, it wasn’t your fault. You were listening to me that whole time we were running, other than the glandular living up your freedom moments. But Vulpes still caught you and did that to us.”

Perse shudders a little at that memory, and then steps forward to show the throat and the body. _I fixed some things, though, even without you._

“I see that. Can you speak?”

_No. Impossible to fix._

“Well, that is a shame. Well, at least we deal with that horrible mess of dysphoria that you were experiencing. Honestly, that overload of feelings was far more than I could stomach, but that is what happens when thought and biology don’t match.”

It is good. Perse smiles a bit more at that. _Agreed. _Then he taps his brain seam, a hopeful expression on his face. _That good enough for you to pop back into my head?_

“Oh, no, not at all. You know the things you get into lately? Charging off to Vegas on missions of ill-conceived revenge, getting into fights that you can’t get out of, refusing to bathe for weeks on end? Why would I ever want to go back in?”

Well, this just got difficult real fast. Perse frowns at his brain in the jar. _It’s really that good in there?_

“Of course it is. I’m safe, plenty of literature to read, and good conversation to have with Mobius. Honestly, you should consider it. You can still do everything that you want to do out there without me, and we don't have to deal with the conflict between me and your glands.”

The brain has a point. There have been a couple benefits to the 'replacing half of your organs with electronics' situation. Perse's even considering keeping the metal heart and spine for the benefits that they've given him. But his brain...he needs his brain back. Granted, Perse hasn't listened to his brain very well in the life he had before, and even if he said that he was going to start now, it wouldn't be an all the time thing. But...

_It's not right without you_, he signs out. _My thought process is wrong. My memories are hazy. And the headaches..._

"So you've finally come to realize my worth. That's good to hear," the brain practically preens. "But I'm good right here."

Perse has given up signing. There’s a keyboard directly on the brain tank. He types it all out as fast as he can, feeling a little dread on the edge of his mind._ But the biomed gel. You’ll decay like the rest of the Think Tank. You thought about that?_

The brain sputters for a few moments and sighs. “No, I hadn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that this is safer than being in your head. Less bullets, after all.”

_But you’ll miss all of the potential experiences out there. New places, new things to find, answers to questions, and you have to admit that some of those feelings that you hate are good._

“We have seen some sights, haven’t we?” The brain sighs. "Sunsets over the Mojave, the Bright Brotherhood launching off to the Far Beyond..."

Perse smiles. _Yeah, we have. _The one thing that he can say is that despite the danger, some of the Mojave is really quite beautiful.

"And the first night we were truly free," if there was a mouth attached, Perse would say that the brain is smiling, "it's hard to recall, what with being shot in the head, but it was wonderful. Do you remember it?"

Perse shakes his head. He had tried to think back to those days, before the bullet wound, but he'd thought that they'd all been taken away like his Mojave Express job. _Tell me._

The brain tells the story with a little fondness in its voice. "We'd run for two days on fight or flight instinct, eating nothing but cactus. By daylight, you hid under the bottoms of caravan wagons - by night, running barefoot. We were so tired, but I knew we had to keep running or we'd be killed. As the sun set on the third night, we had nearly run into a legion battalion and you hid in a bush. Stupid idea, really, the bushes were so dry that you would have been seen by anyone with a careful eye. But no one looked. They were crucifying someone, reading them their rites, and then left. We went to look long after they were gone. A vault dweller, remember?"

Now that the brain tells it...he does. _Yes. Vault 22. He'd been selling drugs. He died in front of me. That's where I got the PipBoy._

"Yes. You took the PipBoy off of his arm, and by the embers of their old fire, you recorded that message. The stars were above us, the wind in our hair, and that was the first moment that we knew how good freedom tasted."

Perse smiles. _Sentimental?_

"Don't get a swelled head over it."

_And what if I promise to be a little bit safer? No travelling to these messes on my own, doctor’s visits, that sort of thing?_

“I’d consider it, but that’s all moot if the Think Tank get their way, wouldn’t you say?”

_Dr. 0’s been pretty calm about the whole thing, but the others…yeah, no, that’s not happening. You want to team up on this one? You can't feel what I feel, I can't think what you think...we're not complete without each other. _

"There's a chance the re-integration would create some improved synergy between us, yes...but before we get to that stage, we have a problem. All of the tools we need to reconnect those pesky nerve endings are in the Think Tank, and I doubt they are inclined to share."

_Then let's go convince them. Words first, and if they don't listen...then it's stomping time._

"Oh, lovely, we've reached the mindless violence of the program. Tell me, what exactly are you - and I use the word loosely - planning?"

Ouch. Perse laughs at that, a wide grin on his face, and he lifts up his hunting rifle with one hand as he types. _I'm thinking a physics lesson. What happens when a small fast-moving chunk of lead hits a murderous brain?_

"Hmm, now that you mention it, I do miss that lovely 'rat-tat-tat-boom' a bit. It's just not the same without a body to feel the recoil."

_I know, right?_

"What's the next step then?"

_We see how well this silver tongue works without a functioning voicebox. Or a brain behind it. _


	7. Think Tank Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showtime, Fallout fans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this dialogue from the first half of the chapter is from the DLC itself, but the last is original. I hope you like it.

“THE LOBOTOMITE RETURNS. _OUR _LOBOTOMITE. HAS DR. MOBIUS BEEN DENOMINATORED INTO SCRAP METAL AND VOICE MODULE PARTS AS WE HOPED?”

Lord above, Perse has absolutely no patience for Klein anymore. He frowns, the red lights in the ceiling casting shadows across his dirty skin. His brain rests carefully in his backpack in a jar of medigel, protectively wrapped in cloth, and while Perse does his best not to look hostile, his gun is definitely within reach. He and his brain had reached that much of an agreement, and they prepped a few things to say, typing it out on his Pipboy. Now, in the Think Tank and in front of the brains, he swallows, gathering his thoughts, and he squares his shoulders.

_Alright. Let’s do this. _

He presses a button to send out the first prepared phrase in RobCo code: “_I found my brain, now we are going to settle things, motherfucker.”_

“I RECOMMEND WATCHING YOUR TONE WITH ME, LOBOTOMITE.”

The images on their viewscreens don’t change – but Dr. 0’s eye monitors definitely shift into a worried expression. “*Perse?*”

He taps out this reply. “_Talking. I have my brain, so we are going to talk.”_

“NOW…’YOUR’ BRAIN. HAND IT OVER OR WE’LL EXTRACT IT AGAIN.”

_“I’m not handing my brain over – there’s some things we should discuss.”_

“AND WHAT COULD WE POSSIBLY HAVE TO SPEAK ABOUT. YOU HAVE THE BRAIN. WE HAVE TH TECHNOLOGY. ALL YOU MUST DO…IS SURRENDER.”

Clearly, the brains have not spent enough time around Perse. Or at least, Klein hasn’t, because Dr. 0 mutters softly, “*Um, Klein, I don’t think that word is in his vocabularizers.*”

_Damn right it isn’t. _Perse is many things, but he does not surrender. That has posed a problem in the past, but it'll work here. It has to.

“SHUT UP, 0, THE IMPORTANT PEOPLE ARE TALKING.”

Oh, fuck OFF.

“WHAT WAS I SAYING? OH YES, WITH YOUR BRAIN, WE CAN FINALLY LEAVE THIS PLACE. I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW BORING THIS PLACE GETS, CHOPPING UP THE LANDSCAPE AND EVERYTHING IN IT. AND WE HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS TO ASK YOUR BRAIN FIRST. ABOUT THIS…MOJAVE PLACE. A FERTILE TESTING GROUND FOR OUR EXPERIMENTS.”

Perse takes a moment to think of the explosive collars, of Little Yangtze, of the Trauma Suits and the lobotomites, of the nightstalkers and cazadores and every other nightmare he has had to bear witness to in this place. True scientific innovations, yes, but all of them had been dangerous disasters. A lot is wrong with the Mojave. So much is wrong with it, the kind of deep embedded wrong that Perse isn’t sure he can even _fix_, but he knows that he can’t do this to the Mojave. He can’t let these people out. Even as much as he likes 0, he _can’t let them out._

But how? He can lie through his teeth – Mobius had suggested intimidating them, saying that Mobius had replaced the tesla coils with his own brain in an implantation procedure, and Perse’s brain noted that even with just the Tesla coils, Perse had enough science knowledge that he could make that lie work. Something about mesons and protons, or something about Mobius coming up with an implantation procedure. He could definitely make that work. However, Perse had a better idea. He still had his memory, what little had been left to him by the bullet, and he remembers a pattern.

He has done a lot of great things with his silver tongue, but he’s done more by making friends.

With a small smile and a look to the other brains, he presses one pre-programmed response. “_Do you really speak for everyone here, for all these brilliant minds? Maybe you should confer with your colleagues first, Doctor Klein.”_

As the code transmits, Perse’s eye settles on each scientist in turn, hoping that they remember what he has done for them. Every word and sign of support. He looks at Dr. 0 last, expression shifting to something like pleading. Please, he thinks vehemently. I don’t want to fight you and I don’t want to scare you. I want to find a solution that works.

His throat, fractured and half-working as it is, manages to push out a sound, something like a word.

“Please.”

Klein starts shouting as soon as the sentence finishes. “NONSENSE. ‘CONFER’? ‘COLLEAGUES’? THOSE ARE TWO WORDS I DO NOT RECOGNIZE.”

Ow. Ow. Ow. Perse is barely listening, grabbing his throat in pain. Alright. Talking is still a no. But hopefully the word had gotten to their auditory sensors. Hopefully Klein hadn’t drowned it out, and, hopefully, someone had heard and would follow it.

“Dr. Klein, I must…intersect. Please…do not harm the Lobotomite.”

_DALA YOU BEAUTIFUL PERVERTED BITCH._

“I’M NOT GOING TO HARM IT, I’M GOING TO DISSECT IT UNTIL IT’S DEAD.”

That makes Perse’s skin crawl, and his hand flinches just a little bit closer to his rifle. Still, he stays quiet and listens.

He listens to Dr. Dala defend his life, wanting to keep him alive for close observation because she can’t stand the thought of him not breathing anymore. (Creepy, but he will gladly accept the sentiment, and he flashes her a smile when she finishes.)

He listens to Dr. 8 defend him, saying that having support in scientific endeavors is important, that Perse has been nothing but supportive, even in personal matters, and that Dr. 8 made friends with him and that he doesn’t want to kill a friend. (Perse remembers the energy cells for oscillation in his bag and gives 8 a thumbs up and smile. And wonders about his choice of friends.)

And he hears Dr. Borous talk about how Perse is similar to them and that they should prolong his life to examine his suffering, in the name of Science. (That is profoundly fucked up, Borous, but Perse appreciates the sentiment. Poor Gabe. And it’s not like Perse can argue that he _isn’t _going to face more suffering, because that is definitely incoming.)

“WHY ARE YOU ACTING LIKE THIS? YOU’VE NEVER REFUSED NECESSARY…SURGERY BEFORE, AND THIS LOBOTOMITE NEEDS ITS SURGERY. PERHAPS YOU ARE IRRADIATED WITH CAMARADERIE RADIATION. WE HAVE CHEMS FOR THAT. WE CAN SAVE YOU FROM YOUR EMOTIONAL…ADDICTION.”

And finally, finally, there is Dr. 0. The robot brain looks at Perse, bobs his eye monitors in something like a reassuring nod, and begins. “*Klein, uh…you know, this Lobotomite, it’s a great sounding board. You respect Idea-ology, right? This one’s…well, it’s…got good ideas.”

“SILENCE, DR. O,” Klein shouts. “THIS IS A THINK TANK DECISION. SAVE YOUR OBJECTIONS UNTIL AFTER I HAVE DECIDED OUR COURSE OF ACTION.”

…Perse really wonders what Klein was like when he was alive. If he was even a fraction of what he is like now, the man must have had a superiority complex bigger than Caesar’s.

Dr. 0 bristles at the shutdown, vibrating in anger, and finally, the brain explodes. “*You know what, Klein? Stick a straw in your tank and _suck yourself. LONG AND DEEP.*”_

Perse lets out a whoop of triumph, fists punching the air in joy. _TELL HIM, ZERO!_

“*And my name is Zero – yeah, a big fat zero, with a slash through it!*”

“THE SLASH…AS A DESIGNATOR OF…WHY, THAT IS BRILLIANT. BUT HOW DID YOU…?”

“*The lobotomite taught me that. Taught me a name is more than…um…that I should take pride in…things. Like names. And myself…*”

Perse is so proud that he thinks he could cry. 

“*You know what, forget it, Klein. I hate you. And your theory of branial beam oscillation? The _Chinese had it first, you copycat!*”_

“HOW DARE YOU? THE BRANIAL BEAM OSCILLATION WAS SOLEY MY DISCOVERY! I EXPRESSLY TOLD YOU THAT AND DELETED ALL EVIDENCE TO THE CONTRARY!”

Okay, there are definitely tears as Perse whoops again. _THAT’S MY **MAN! **THAT’S MY FUCKED UP INSECURE BRAIN IN A JAR! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU, I KNEW I HAD AFFECTED YOU SOMEHOW, YOU’RE MY MAIN FUCKING MAN IN THIS GOD FORSAKEN PLACE!_

“WHY AM I EVEN LISTENING TO YOU FOOLS? ENOUGH OF THIS MUTINOUS CHORUS! IF THERE’S A WORD I HATE, IT’S ‘MUTINY’. AND THE WORD ‘JISM’, WHICH NEVER MADE ANY SENSE TO ME.”

…maybe Perse has been in too many life or death situations lately because hearing that makes him want to start laughing. Of course a prim and proper scientist would react poorly to the word ‘jism’. Of _course. _He doesn’t laugh out loud, his throat hurts too much from the speaking and whooping for that, but his chest does shake with quiet laughter.

“I COUNT AS FIVE. LIKE THE MIGHTY HUMAN HAND I ONCE HAD, WITH ITS FIVE PENISES CLENCHED IN A FIST.”

Perse taps out a reply, an eyebrow raised at the dictatorial scientist. “_Now, I may not have a brain in my head, but it sounds to me like your math is wrong, Klein, and the odds aren’t good.”_

NONSENSE. THE MATHEMATICS OF THE ISTUATION ARE ON OUR SIDE, LOBOTOMITE. I BELIEVE..NO WAIT, HM…CARRY THE TWO…THEN…HM, IF THIS WERE A DEMOCRACY, I WOULD BE CONCERNED. WE ARE TOO SCIENTIFIC FOR THAT. SO JUST SURRENDER.”

Alright, different approach. “_It’s not a democracy, it’s a research facility. And over half of your colleagues dispute your findings.”_

“YOU DARE USE LOGIC AGAINST ME?!”

…how was that funnier than what Klein said earlier. How. Perse snorts with laughter, managing to gather himself, and presses a pre-written reply. “_I do. Here’s the deal. I’m not going to surrender – you are.”_

“THAT’S NO DEAL AT ALL! THERE’S A WHOLE WORLD BEYOND THE CRATER, FILLED WITH IDEAS AND POSSIBILITIES. WE COULD HAVE ESCAPED, SEEN IT ALL FOR OURSELVES. TESTED IT, PRODDED AT IT. MADE IT _SQUIRM._”

That puts the nail in the coffin for letting them out. Still, Perse has a heart. Or he did once and it's in a jar in the Sink, but that’s besides the point. “_I can bring the Mojave, the world out there, to you. You’ll be safe from the dangers out there, and you’ll still be able to experiment.”_

“FOR YOU? AND FOR SCIENCE?”

Perse smiles, looking at all of them this time. It’s not just Klein he has to convince. After all, the others are scientists too. He nods firmly. “_Yes. For me, and for science. Mostly for science, though.”_

Klein pauses, and if he had a human body, Perse imagines that he would be frowning and tipping his head to the side. “I HAVE A STRANGE SENSATION…THAT I WOULD LIKE THAT. HOW…ODD.”

_So...is that a yes?_

_“_VERY WELL, PARTNER. THE THINK TANK IS AT YOUR SERVICE, AS LONG AS YOU DO NOT DESTROY US.”

_YES!_

Perse does not jump in the air and kick his heels, but it’s a damn near thing. His grin feels like it’s going to hurt his face for how wide it is. He saved the Mojave! From a threat they didn’t really know existed! And he doesn’t have to kill anyone! THIS IS A GOOD DAY! He lowers the PipBoy, makes sure his rifle is secure and away, and sends a thought back to the brain in his bag, even if it can’t hear him.

_I did it. You don’t need a brain to make friends. You just need a desire to be kind._

* * *

Before Perse makes his way up to the Sink to put his brain back in his head, he swings by Dr. 0’s station. He finds his usual spot on the doctor’s workbench, feet dangling off the floor, and smiles at him while tapping out a reply. “_You told Klein to fuck off. I’m so goddamn proud of you, 0.”_

“*I know, I can’t believe I did it.*” 0 looks excited, bouncing in the air for a moment, before settling. “*It’s not going to last – he’ll override me later and I won’t be able to get the words together, but I did it once. And it felt _good.*”_

“_Did he really rip off the Chinese?”_

“*O, yes he did. Klein’s smart, but he definitely stole some Chinese intelligence and tried to make it his own.*” 0 looks proud. “*I didn’t always come up with ideas, but at least I didn’t steal from other people.*”

“_Exactly.”_

“*So…was Mobius as twisted as he looked in person? Can’t believe you entered the Forbidden Zone and lived. None of us can.*”

Perse huffs a quiet laugh. “_Remember that whole giant robot scorpion thing we were talking about? How there’s no way he could have one?”_

“*Yeah.*”

“_…he did.”_

“*…no, he didn’t.*” 0’s screens zoom closer, as if that can discern whether Perse is telling the truth.

“_I swear on my name that it’s real. Apparently he turned it on and forgot about it. I nearly got fried just walking inside.”_ And that’s the only concrete detail he’s going to give 0 about the whole thing. Nothing else about Mobius. This needs to stay stable to give the decaying brains some order.

0, for his part, shudders. “*That’s terrifying. I can’t believe you went in. That was dangerous.*”

“_Dangerous is my middle name. Maybe. I need a middle name. Or a last name.” _

“*How about Venture? Like…adventure? Since you go on a lot of those?*” 0 shakes his head. “*Forget I said anything.*”

…okay, that is cool. _“No, no, that’s great! I love it. Perse Venture. Look at that, you got a new idea already! Thanks, Zero!”_

Dr. 0’s mouth monitor doesn’t change, but it sounds like a smile. “*O, you don’t have to say that. Or keep it. But thanks.*” He putts around for a moment before asking, “*You leaving soon then?*”

“_Yep. Gonna go put my brain back in my head first, and then I’ll head back. My friends are probably worried sick.” _That has been weighing on him. Arcade had watched him disappear, and there hasn’t exactly been a way for Perse to communicate and let him know that he isn’t dead. That…is not going to be a fun conversation. Still, he pushes past it. “_I’m leaving my heart and spine – my body works just fine without them. And really, who needs a spine?”_

“*That’s what I said!*”

Perse laughs, the sound cracking and awful and _ow his throat_. “_Any special requests for research? I’m making a list. Preferrably things I can put in a backpack.”_

Dr. 0 hums, his monitors shifting in a way that looks like he is tapping his chin. “*Hm…see if you can find anything new, maybe? I want to see how things have changed out there. You know, new ideas, see what people are doing?*”

“_Even if it’s Robco?”_

0’s teeth are clenched. “*Even. If. It’s. Robco.*”

“Will do.” Perse pops off the table, stretching his arms, and smiles. “Thanks, 0. You’re probably the best thing about this place.”

0 freezes. Perse blinks, not quite sure what to do, and comes to a quiet realization.

_Is this the first compliment he’s had in a while?_

“*Uh…thank you.*” It sounds like 0 is going to cry. “*I…I will miss you, Perse. Come back soon?*”

This place is a nightmare. It’s full of things that want to kill him, things that make him feel sick, things that make him wonder what the hell happened to humanity before the Great War that made them feel all of this was necessary. For most of the time that he’s been in the Big Empty, all that Perse has wanted to do is go home. He _still wants to go home. _

But…he made a promise.

“_Yeah. I’ll be back soon.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perse's potential new last name comes from the fact that James Urbaniak, who voices Dr. 0, plays Dr. Venture on the show _The Venture Bros._
> 
> Last chapter is an epilogue, wherein Perse brings a special guest to the Big MT.


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More visitors to the Big MT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! This is the finale for these two.

_“You two will love it.”_

Arcade Gannon stares intently at Perse, one eyebrow raised, arm crossed over his chest. He can’t quite fathom what Perse is signing at him, and one side glance at Veronica Santangelo tells him that she’s got the exact same expression on her face. Perse looks eager, smiling his usual charming smile at them, as though he hasn’t quite grasped what he’s suggesting.

“Perse,” Arcade uncrosses his arms to pinch the bridge of his nose, “once you pushed through the mental block they put in your head, you had nothing but horror stories to tell us about Big MT and now you want us to go see it with you?”

Perse’s hair has just started to grow out, the bangs and edges hanging over his surgery scars. You know, scars from where they _removed Perse’s brain? _Granted, Perse is incredibly excited about the new scars from his chest and throat from the voluntary surgeries, but there are the scars from where they replaced his heart and spine with metal. Not to mention everything else that they’d heard - robot scorpions, genetic mutations, skeletons in suits with flamethrowers…Big MT sounds like a terrible place to be.

“I mean, I’m curious about the inventions that came out of there, but I’d rather avoid some of the things you’ve told us about. Especially if those doctors are as terrible as they sound,” Veronica replies.

Perse frowns, almost a pout (which is deadly for Arcade’s self-control, no, no, _focus) _and signs, “_Come on, I have to go back anyways.”_

“Right, that deal you made to keep the mad scientists so that they don’t ravage the Mojave,” Arcade grumbles.

Veronica sighs. “Perse, are you hoping for company? Or to prove to us that none of what you described was fake?”

He tips his hand side to side. _“Little bit of both.”_

Of course. Arcade can’t blame him for that. From the sounds of it, Perse had spent a lot of time alone, apart from the various experiments that had talked to him. Company was something he absolutely needed. As well, a lot of what Perse had told them sounded ridiculous. No, not ridiculous. Absurd. Impossible. The imaginings of someone who took way too many drugs, or someone who had had particularly vivid dreams. But…the scars. The items Perse had brought back. Some of the logs in his PipBoy of things that he’d had to write out to tell people.

…dammit, now he’s curious. And feels bad.

“How would it work? If we decided to go?” He asks hesitantly.

Veronica gives Arcade a smile, the kind that says ‘he won you over, didn’t he’. Arcade frowns at her, daring her to say that out loud, and Veronica just grins at him. They turn their attention back to Perse, who is eagerly typing out a response.

“_I’ve got a device to transport us back and forth. You just gotta hang onto me, I pull the trigger, and boom.”_

“That’s it?” It can’t be that simple.

“I think so,” Veronica replies.

_“Only issue is that you gotta hold on really close,” _Perse adds. “_It doesn’t like it when I’m with other people, so…”_

“So we have to trick it into thinking we’re one very large person?” Veronica raises her eyebrow. Perse points at her in a silent ‘exactly’, and she sighs. “Well, if it goes wrong, it’ll just leave us behind.”

“It could go so much worse than that!” Arcade sighs but ultimately puts his face into his hand. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

It’s definitely uncomfortable. Close as possible means navigating around Perse’s armor and weapons, wrapping arms around his body and trying not to grab anything inappropriate. They settle on Veronica hugging him from the front, Perse’s face pressed into her neck, and Arcade awkwardly hugging him from the side, face in Perse’s hair. It only just leaves Perse’s arm free, the strange science gun in his hand, and he makes a questioning hum.

(That had been so strange, to hear Perse humming along to the radio or making affirmative sounds as answers to questions. Perse, ever-silent Perse who communicated with hands and smiles and gunfire, who could finally reclaim a bit of the voice taken from him by the Legion. It was amazing, and Arcade can’t help smiling every time he hears it.)

“Ready!” Veronica chirps.

Arcade sighs and holds on a little tighter. “Ready.”

The trigger clicks, the gun makes a humming noise that surrounds them with blue light, and Arcade’s stomach swoops as the ground drops out from under him. It passes in a blink of an eye, and their feet land on metal flooring. Arcade blinks, eyes swimming, and hesitates to let go.

“Did we make it?” He asks.

Veronica groans. “Oh, I’m gonna be sick.”

Perse makes a noise that sounds a lot like a laugh and nods. Veronica lets go first, going to her knees to get her breath back, and Arcade lets go afterward, sinking to a bench. They gather themselves, reorienting their senses to wherever they are, and Arcade looks around properly to see…

A forcefield. A big blue forcefield surrounding the building they are standing on…and buildings as far as the eye can see.

“We’re…we’re here?” He asks softly.

The robotic voice plays from Perse’s PipBoy. _“Welcome to Big MT, folks.”_

* * *

It is hard to believe that Big MT would be exactly as Perse’s stories had said it would be, but somehow…it is. From the electronic butler greeting them in the Sink to the toaster shouting obscenities in murderous rage on the table, the drawling voiced Auto-Doc that checks in on Perse’s surgical scars to the miniature Securitron begging for mugs to wash…it’s all real. It’s real in a way that makes Arcade _wish _he was high. That at least would _explain it. _

Arcade spends the better part of an hour with the Auto-Doc, working out what kind of adjustments had been done on it to get it to work as well as it had. There aren’t that many Auto-Docs out in the Mojave, but the Followers need every edge that they can get. The Auto-Doc is more than happy to give him information and he spends a while synthesizing items while writing down everything he can. Veronica enthusiastically pours through the records Dr. Mobius kept up here, including all of the personality devices.

“Mobius? What kind of name was that?” Arcade asks.

Perse takes a while to type. “_Mobius put them in a recursive loop in an attempt to keep them here. Every brain has a name that involves some kind of infinite loop.”_

Ah.

Veronica calls over, “Is Mobius here? Do we get to meet him?”

“_No, he’s in a different dome. They all think he’s a villain who will destroy them. Part of the whole ‘trapping them here’.”_

Arcade nods. “Of course. What better method to unite and occupy minds than the fear of an oncoming enemy. Rome unites when Hannibal is at the gates.”

Perse tips his head, curious, but nods approvingly. He always looks a bit impressed whenever Arcade drops history knowledge like that, and it makes Arcade’s cheeks a little warm.

…alright, perhaps he whips it out more just to impress him. Maybe.

Meanwhile, Perse empties his bag as they look around, feeding mugs to the robot for spare parts, plants to the research station for food supplies, and they are all subjected to the lovely sound of the murderous toaster tearing apart one that Perse salvaged. All of the pieces are sorted into special compartments in Perse’s backpack, making it lighter but jingle more. He sets it to the side by the butler robot, gathering a few things in his arms, and gestures with his head, signing quickly with his free hand.

_Ready to go?_

“Yes!” Veronica leaps up. “I’m ready to meet the brains in jars. Whatever they’re like.”

Arcade sighs. “Once more unto the breach.”

They take the elevator down, the vibration both soothing and rather ominous. Arcade finds his mind wandering as he stares at the controls. It still baffles him that this place was so untouched. Perse was the first person in nearly two hundred years to touch these controls, to sleep in the bed, to walk these halls with feet instead of wheel or hovering chassis. Even now, the three of them together are the most humans (well, humans with all of their parts) to set foot in the Think Tank. For all of the desolation of the Mojave, there are plenty of signs of life everywhere you go. This place…it felt empty. A ghost town. These sterile halls are a nightmare of their own, a sign of humans seemingly having abandoned their humanity in search of progress.

And now Arcade is imagining Perse here alone. Alone with stinging scars from an unknown surgery with electronic voices yelling at him from every which direction, stumbling from place to place, with nothing but a gun for comfort. It hurts, and now Arcade _really _can’t fault Perse for wanting to have someone else with him. Even now, Perse looks tense, shoulders nearly up to his ears, eye glazed as if he’s losing himself in his memories.

He lightly nudges Perse’s elbow, pressing his shoulder against him. Veronica gets the hint and winds her arm around Perse’s waist. With slow blinks, Perse comes back to himself and lets out a slow, trembling breath.

“Don’t worry, Perse. No one is doing any more surgery on you. Not unless you want it,” Veronica soothes.

“God help them if they try,” Arcade adds, "because no one else will."

Perse turns to both of them, his gaze fond, and adjusts the supplies in his arm so he can press his fingers to his mouth and lower his arm at the elbow. _Thank you. _

The elevator dings as they arrive on the floor and Perse steps through first. Veronica flanks his right, Arcade his left, as they walk up the ramp into the main area. Arcade hears the hum of electronics first. It's a faint sound over the thump of their boots on the metal floors, but it gets louder with every step, along with the whirring of metal on metal. It's not unlike the sound of protectrons. They crest the ramp and...

Wow. 

Those are...

Yup, that is exactly what Perse had described. There are five robot brains in chairs, hovering in metal chassis, with motors with pictures of eyes on them moving around. They whir at their differing stations, picking at whatever it is they are working on, and Arcade lets out a soft, "Huh."

Veronica leans over to Arcade. "...he wasn't joking."

"No, he was not."

One of the robots turns to look at them and lets out a spew of static, moving towards them curiously. It peers at them, eye monitors nearly touching Arcade's glasses, and lets out another spew of static, louder this time.

"*Yes, yes, what is it, 8?*" One of the brains yells from a station.

"[...!!!...]" It screeches. Text plays across Perse's PipBoy screen and Arcade cranes his head to read it. **Zero, your pet human is here. And it brought friends.**

The yelling brain turns around from its workstation and honestly, it's hard to tell without a body or face to add expressions to, but Arcade swears that this particular brain looks giddy. "*Perse! You came back!*"

"Here, Perse, I'll take that so you can talk." Arcade holds out his arms and with a grateful smile, Perse dumps the load into them. It's heavy, but Arcade manages to keep it all together. It's...now that he looks at it, it's a little bit of everything. Electronics, holotapes, plant samples, music samples...he feels like it's something each of them would like. Maybe.

Perse types away on his PipBoy and waves. "_Hey, 0. Told you I'd come back. And I brought some of my friends. They're smarter than I am, so I thought they'd like to see it."_

Veronica waves. "You're Dr. 0, right? Perse told us about you." Her smile is warm, if a little on edge. "I'm Veronica, and this is Dr. Gannon."

"*How did you remember enough to tell them? I thought we put the block in your head.*" Perse shrugs in response and 0 sighs. "*Klein's going to have a fit when he notices. But hello, friends of Perse. As long as you don't do anything...uh, anything..."

...Arcade swears the brain is scratching his head. Even without arms.

Perse fills in. "_Aggressive? Violent? Unthoughtful?"_

"*Yes, all of those things. As long as you do none of those things, you will be fine.*" 0 bubbles a little in his tank. "*I can't believe I get to say this. Welcome to Big MT, folks, and welcome to the Think Tank!*"

"WHAT ARE YOU BABBLING ON ABOUT, 0?"

"Yes, I am curious as to...oh. Hello teddy bears. Such lovely new ones for us to look at."

"-Newcomers to the THINK TANK. What DANGERS will they present? WHO KNOWS?"

"*Everyone, these are Perse's friends."

"[...!!&#!]...[**$%#^]" **No one hurts Perse's friend. He's my friend and his friends are mine now.**

Perse rubs the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly, and Arcade sighs. 

"Can I retroactively say I'm sorry that I sent you to check out that sattelite?" He mutters to Perse.

Perse laughs quietly, voice cracking, and taps out. _Always, Arcade. _

He definitely is. Because the Think Tank is just as mad as Perse described. And then some.


End file.
